Fated: The Epic Finale (Talented Saga Book 8) Page 5

  A stir of unease flit through Cressa. With their eyes fixed firmly on the Isle’s feed, Cressa took the opportunity to lock eyes with Kev. A wave of calm engulfed her, his eyes reassuring. Kev took her hand again and offered a small smile.

  “Why didn’t they kill us?” Cressa whispered.

  Kev’s gaze flit to the Dame and Tate. “They must need us.”

  “For what?”

  “That’s the question,” he breathed. Kev’s eyes grew larger, then he pressed his thumb into the back of her hand. “Don’t let them break you. It’s not real, it will end.”

  Cressa had no idea what he meant, but the room’s comm speaker crackled to life before she could ask.

  “Baseline, this is Fado in Craft One. Waiting for orders to proceed.”

  The model still showed people scurrying across the surfaces below. Cressa held her breath, hoping they would hurry to safety. Even if they were bad guys, Cressa knew what nightmarish fates were in store if caught by the Dame. She didn’t wish the electric containment cages and dead-eyed stares on anyone.

  As more pods were launched from the islands, a gentle wave carried them quickly out to the open sea.

  Gretchen answered in a tight voice. “Officer Fado, proceed with Maneuver Pattern C.”

  “Commencing now,” the Privileged agent called through the speakers.

  An eerie silence fell over the room, followed by a visual symphony of destruction. Hover-armory descended in a complete circle around the islands on the screen. Winged creatures emerged and jumped from the hovers. Though she’d never seen anything like it, Cressa knew she shouldn’t be surprised that the Dame had come up with new warfare tactics. Their white suits glistening in the sun, the Privileged agents hurled nano bombs onto the islands that burst into fireballs upon impact.

  The structures seemed to sway in the water. Towering waves appeared off the sides of the areas most targeted, nearly reaching the Privileged craft above. In several places, the waves extinguished the flames.

  “Proceed with Operation Ranks when able,” Gretchen commanded. Several minutes passed as the largest flames lost intensity. When spaces were cleared, hovers and the winged agents landed.

  “Switch to Officer Fado operative visuals,” Tate ordered.

  A first-person view from inside a hover replaced the aerial feed in the center of the room. The holographic scene playing out in the Dame’s lair was too real, and Cressa curled into the corner of the couch. With flames lapping dangerously close, Fado exited the craft and ran across a flat, gray surface. A burst of fire fell directly in his path, but the agent simply ran through the blaze. Cressa gasped. Fado and the others were obviously risking their lives to free the wrongly imprisoned talents. Luckily, the rest of his path was clear and open as he led a team to a covered walkway. Wide steps descended beneath the island’s surface, the hologram spinning in the Dame’s control room as Fado spiraled below.

  “Vault surface breach is clean, no hostiles encountered,” the officer announced. Cressa had to close her eyes to keep from becoming dizzy at the movement on the screen.

  Gretchen leaned forward. “Proceed with Operation Ranks.”

  After another level down and two turns, Fado entered a room with a wide control screen. In the Dame’s sitting room, the scene split into a dozen different flat feeds playing out. Rows of prison cells were shown on each. Two Privileged operatives moved into place at the end of every hallway, a delayed effect as the agents reached the lower levels. Other than the white-suited Privileged, the wide aisles were empty.

  When the sentries were in place, Fado’s voice returned through the speakers.

  “Commencing broadcast in 3, 2, 1.”

  “Hello, residents of Vault.” Gretchen’s prerecorded voice boomed through the speakers and echoed in the video background simultaneously. “I am Madame de Glace, leader of the Privileged. I am here to set you free from United’s chains.”

  Banging sounds reverberated from the feeds.

  “All that I ask in return,” the Dame’s recording continued, “is that you join our ranks to fight back against the powers that put you in those cells. They have voted to kill you all. The Coexistence Treaty has been overturned, and you are all scheduled for execution.”

  There was a long pause, likely to allow the Dame’s words to soak in with those listening.

  “Will you join our ranks?” her voice posited. “Will you fight back against the corrupt and forge your own paths? Those who join us will be freed immediately, choose wisely.”

  Cressa watched Gretchen’s face as the message was delivered. The Dame’s blue eyes sparkled, a wide grin stretched across her features. Should she really be happy that they’d just killed all those people caught on the surfaces of the islands?

  Stop doubting, Cressa chastised herself. She’s freeing innocent people. People that UNITED locked up just for being like me. Even as the thought traversed her mind, a leaden feeling weighed in Cressa’s gut.

  Gretchen spread her arms wide, basking in the scene.

  “Open the doors,” she ordered. “All of them.”

  Chapter Four

  Erik

  Talia leveled Gracia with a look that would’ve melted most people.

  “Is that what you want?” my girlfriend pressed. “You want me to show you exactly what the Dame couldn’t deliver?”

  The doppelganger hesitated. Fear that she hated feeling spiked inside her. Tals felt it too, prompting her to offer Gracia an option that didn’t involve feeling like her skull was being crushed.

  “Or, you can do this the easy way and just tell me who the Dame is,” Talia continued in an even tone. “Her name would be a good start.”

  Confusion flickered in the clone’s eyes. A quick read of her emotions revealed that she didn’t understand the question; Gracia thought she’d already proudly told us who was in charge. It seemed she only knew the Privileged leader as the Dame and only addressed her as ma’am.

  “Let’s try another one,” Tals said, shaking her head. She’d noticed the same confusion from Gracia. “Did you know about the attack on the Isle of Exile before it began?”

  Gracia’s thoughts reverted to the static of the mental chant, her purple eyes staring vacantly. My name is Talia Lyons…

  Even as she thought the name, her emotions were tinged with only a hint of jealousy. Oddly, there was very little hatred for Talia swimming amongst the other feelings. I couldn’t determine the reason for the anomaly without delving deeper into her head, and I wasn’t quite ready to take that plunge just yet.

  “You did know,” I declared, answering for Gracia with faux confidence. In a last-ditch effort to avoid the minefields of an unknown mind, I decided to appeal to a baser instinct: pride.

  “You knew about the attack, you must have,” I insisted. “You’re important to the Dame.”

  Just not as important as you think you are, I added silently.

  “As Talia’s clone, you must know what the Dame wants with her.”

  After offering the challenge, I watched Gracia closely, curious what her next move would be. Talia was doing the same, her head cocked slightly to one side.

  The restraints hadn’t been secured for several minutes now; Gracia could have already darted for an exit or launched an attack on one of us. Instead, the doppelgänger huddled in one end of the tub. She ran her fingertips over the red marks the ropes had emblazoned on her wrists and stared back at me. Her chest puffed some, reiterating what I already knew: Gracia craved the Dame’s attention and adoration. She also thought she was more essential to the leader than she could possibly be.

  We’d barely broken a sweat while capturing Gracia. Anyone who was important to the Privileged would’ve had Nightshade agents as guards.

  “What does the Dame want with Talia?” I asked, my voice silky smooth.

  Gracia struggled against the compulsion but conceded eventually. “She wants Talia’s blood.”

  “We already knew that,” Tals sent, annoyed. “I’m g
oing inside her head. We can’t wait any longer.”

  “No. Not yet,” I replied hurriedly. If one of us was going into Gracia’s mind, it would be me. Talia was too valuable to risk. I had a niggling feeling that delving into Gracia’s gray matter was exactly what the Dame wanted. She would’ve planned for Talia to dive in, and I refused to play into her hand.

  “What else does she want you for?” I demanded of Gracia. “The Dame wouldn’t have bothered making a weird clone thing if she just wanted to kidnap Talia. She needs you impersonating her for some reason. What is it?”

  Gracia’s mind registered the same confusion she’d felt when I asked the Dame’s real name. She’d never considered there was more to the plan, nor that the Privileged’s leader hadn’t shared all her intentions with Gracia.

  Nevertheless, brainwashed or not, a part of Gracia understood that I was right. The Dame wanted my girlfriend for more than her blood, and Gracia was clueless about her true purpose.

  From Talia’s belt, the kitchen communicator sounded. The device was in her hand by the next ring.

  “Your father,” she sent me, handing over the communicator.

  My father’s harried face appeared in holographic form when I punched the button to answer. Turning, I shielded his view from our captive in the bathtub.

  “Where are you?” I asked without preamble.

  Gracia and Tals unmistakably had one thing in common—neither wasted an opportunity. My father’s call was the distraction Gracia had been waiting for, the one she’d needed. The clone sent a wave of telekinetic power at us. It was meant to throw Tals and I backward, but my girlfriend was faster than Gracia could ever hope to be. Whatever Talia did, there was an explosion that rained sparks from the ceiling. With one hard look from my girlfriend, Gracia’s scream died on her lips. She cowered in the tub, her arms protectively cradled around her head.

  “What the hell is going on there?” my father demanded.

  My gaze traveled to the girl huddled in the tub, and I felt a smirk curl my lips. Talia didn’t look the least bit winded by her defensive move. Hands propped on her hips, she was practically challenging the captive. My girlfriend was incredible.

  “A minor inconvenience,” I replied to my father. “Very minor. Are you en route?”

  “We will arrive in less than twenty minutes,” my father replied, glancing behind him.

  “How’s Alex?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

  “Frightened but hanging in there,” Dad said with small smile. “He’s tough, just like you.”

  Beside me, some of Tals’ anger was doused by a wave of relief from my father’s words.

  “Be careful,” I said, not wanting to add to the radio chatter. Someone might be listening, and it was better to keep our messages to the necessities.

  “We’ll see you soon,” I added.

  “Be careful, son.” My dad wore his serious face, and I felt like a child under his gaze.

  “I can take care of myself,” I promised.

  “See that you do.” With that, my father disconnected.

  “Twenty minutes ‘til they’re here,” I sent to Tals. “Twenty minutes to break Gracia.”

  “I don’t want Alex in the same house with her,” Talia reiterated.

  “Me neither.”

  I inhaled deeply and turned to my girlfriend. “We’re out of time. I’m going into her brain.”

  Tals shook her head vehemently. “I’m more experienced with psychological interrogations. You don’t know what you’re doing in there, Erik. There’s less risk for me,” she argued.

  My girlfriend had a point, but I still wasn’t willing to chance it. Unfortunately, Tals played her trump card.

  “We don’t have enough time for you to try if you can’t get the info,” she pressed. “I can get in, get answers, and extract myself much faster than you’d be able to.”

  “Okay,” I relented when I could find no argument to combat hers. “Just get her to answer your questions. Don’t go searching for yourself, I don’t trust her.”

  Tals didn’t need to be told twice. Even as she sent me vibes of agreement, Talia advanced on Gracia. The doppelgänger tried to match the intensity of my girlfriend’s stare and couldn’t manage the feat.

  Kneeling, Talia wrapped her fingers around the edge of the tub and leaned forward.

  “What is your name?” she asked. Talia’s voice was so low, I could barely hear her.

  My girlfriend had enough experience with Mind Manipulation to start simple. Talia wanted so badly to tear the doppelganger’s mind to shreds that the feeling was palpably present in the air. Her restraint was as clear as the Mediterranean Sea, and a surge of pride rushed through me.

  Lips twitching erratically, Gracia attempted to fight Talia’s compulsion. The thing was, Talia wasn’t using much force behind her questions, not by a long shot. Her words were laced with just enough suggestion that most people would have complied. Gracia, seeming to have some of the same abilities as Talia, should have been able to resist. And yet….

  “Gracia Beaumont,” the girl answered through clenched teeth.

  “How old are you, Gracia?” Talia asked.

  I inched closer, worried that my girlfriend was close to a feral form of power.

  “Nineteen,” Gracia sputtered.

  Her hand started for her mouth, as though to cover her lips and prevent more words from slipping through. Tals slammed Gracia’s arm down and pinned it in place. The cuffs may have been gone, but Gracia was still incapacitated.

  My girlfriend squinted and cocked her head to one side. My mind was open to Talia, so I read the single name from her thoughts—the name Gracia was trying not to think.

  “Who is Daphne?” Talia asked. A thrill ran through me; we were finally getting somewhere.

  Gracia shook her head vehemently. Even as her head lolled erratically on her neck, the clone’s body began spasming. Despite agreeing with Talia that she should handle it, I widened my mental net to include the Privileged girl.

  Gracia’s mind was a freaky place right then. Warring emotions within her were causing physical pain. It was almost as though she was programmed not to speak about certain things to her own physical peril.

  “Don’t press,” I sent Talia. “At least not yet. It’s not her own will keeping her quiet.”

  Talia shot me a flippant look but hesitated.

  “You might break her,” I pressed. “You were right, her mind has definitely been altered.”

  Talia gave one quick nod in response, the only indication that my words has made an impact.

  “Daphne is your sister?” Tals asked, connecting spots in Gracia’s mind to form an answer. “She’s Created, too?”

  Gracia stilled. Tears poured down her cheeks, and she averted her violet eyes.

  “We are the chosen ones,” the girl repeated. “The Privileged ones selected by the Dame to become the world’s elite leaders.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and nearly unintelligible. Still refusing to look at us, Gracia hissed, “I’m Privileged. Not Created.”

  What’s the difference? I wondered. But I didn’t pose the ask out loud.

  More tears streamed down a face that looked so much like the one I loved. Somehow. Gracia still wasn’t scared. She was upset.

  Mostly, the doppelgänger was upset by her own epic failure to stand against us. Tals hadn’t even come close to using her full strength, and Gracia was finally realizing that she was no match for the girl she was supposed to be.

  Now that information was falling unwillingly from the doppelganger’s lips, I allowed myself to hope that a full-on invasion wouldn’t be necessary. Tals was only asking these questions, to familiarize herself with Gracia’s brain patterns, but compulsion was proving effective. My hope was both premature and naïve; the stuff Gracia knew was buried deep in her mind. Deep down, I knew that. We’d have to dig. And I should be the one to do it.

  “Where’s Daphne now?” Tals asked.

  When Gracia didn’t respond
, Tals increased the levels of compulsion and repeated the question.

  “The Institute,” Gracia wheezed, her chest rising and falling too fast. Again, she was fighting Talia’s manipulation, but it wasn’t her will.

  “Where’s the Institute?” Tals pressed.

  It took everything Gracia had to fend off Talia. Her all wasn’t enough. The answer popped from her pursed lips at the same time it came to me.

  “France.”

  Tals wasn’t surprised. Well, she was. Briefly. More accurately, it was like a puzzle piece finally fell into place and suddenly made sense from a completely different viewpoint. Oddly, that was precisely how I felt, but for a very different reason.

  After Talia escaped the island of Vault, witnesses claimed to have seen her and Anya in Nice, France. Once I did a little investigating, it became clear the girl with Anya wasn’t my girlfriend. It was someone who looked just like her. And once I encountered Gracia, the situation in Nice made a lot more sense. With the final peace rally in London, and Tals likely headed there, I’d headed to England. Victoria had sent a team to look into things in France further. UNITED lost contact with the team. It included a friend of ours, Cadence Choi, and the concern for them was a constant concern in my mind. Just not at the forefront.

  Focus on what you can control at the moment, I coached myself. Gracia is the key to figuring it all out.

  “Where in France?” I demanded, pushing hard for the answer.

  It was either too much compulsion or the wrong question. Gracia’s eyes bugged and her lips parted. It was like her tongue was stuck inside her mouth. She gagged several times, as though vomit would be spewing at any moment.

  “Shit,” I swore aloud.

  “I think you broke her,” Tals said, staring wonderingly at her doppelganger.

  “Shit,” I repeated and ran a hand through my hair. “Permanently?”

  Tals used a fair amount of mental energy trying to assess the damage to Gracia’s mind. After a minute she exhaled slowly and met my expectant gaze. “No. I don’t think so, anyway. But if we want more info out of her, we have to go into her head.”